The Aeneid Of Virgil: Book 9 Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABCCDDEFGHIIIIJKIILL IIMMNOIIPPQQRRSSTUII IIIIVVWUIIXXRARIIWWY YZZIIA2A2PPMMIIPPKKI IB2B2XXAAC2C2D2D2E2E 2KKZZF2F2NNG2H2KKI2I 2LLIIXXB2B2J2UIIMAUU OK2K2I2I2AAL2M2IIIIA AMAN2N2XXO2P2PQ2R2R2 S2BT2T2U2U2V2V2MMMW2 X2Y2Y2IZ2WHILE these affairs in distant places pass d | A |
The various Iris Juno sends with haste | B |
To find bold Turnus who with anxious thought | C |
The secret shade of his great grandsire sought | C |
Retir d alone she found the daring man | D |
And op d her rosy lips and thus began | D |
What none of all the gods could grant thy vows | E |
That Turnus this auspicious day bestows | F |
neas gone to seek th Arcadian prince | G |
Has left the Trojan camp without defense | H |
And short of succors there employs his pains | I |
In parts remote to raise the Tuscan swains | I |
Now snatch an hour that favors thy designs | I |
Unite thy forces and attack their lines | I |
This said on equal wings she pois d her weight | J |
And form d a radiant rainbow in her flight | K |
The Daunian hero lifts his hands and eyes | I |
And thus invokes the goddess as she flies | I |
Iris the grace of heav n what pow r divine | L |
Has sent thee down thro dusky clouds to shine | L |
See they divide immortal day appears | I |
And glitt ring planets dancing in their spheres | I |
With joy these happy omens I obey | M |
And follow to the war the god that leads the way | M |
Thus having said as by the brook he stood | N |
He scoop d the water from the crystal flood | O |
Then with his hands the drops to heav n he throws | I |
And loads the pow rs above with offer d vows | I |
Now march the bold confed rates thro the plain | P |
Well hors d well clad a rich and shining train | P |
Messapus leads the van and in the rear | Q |
The sons of Tyrrheus in bright arms appear | Q |
In the main battle with his flaming crest | R |
The mighty Turnus tow rs above the rest | R |
Silent they move majestically slow | S |
Like ebbing Nile or Ganges in his flow | S |
The Trojans view the dusty cloud from far | T |
And the dark menace of the distant war | U |
Caicus from the rampire saw it rise | I |
Black ning the fields and thick ning thro the skies | I |
Then to his fellows thus aloud he calls | I |
What rolling clouds my friends approach the walls | I |
Arm arm and man the works prepare your spears | I |
And pointed darts the Latian host appears | I |
Thus warn d they shut their gates with shouts ascend | V |
The bulwarks and secure their foes attend | V |
For their wise gen ral with foreseeing care | W |
Had charg d them not to tempt the doubtful war | U |
Nor tho provok d in open fields advance | I |
But close within their lines attend their chance | I |
Unwilling yet they keep the strict command | X |
And sourly wait in arms the hostile band | X |
The fiery Turnus flew before the rest | R |
A piebald steed of Thracian strain he press d | A |
His helm of massy gold and crimson was his crest | R |
With twenty horse to second his designs | I |
An unexpected foe he fac d the lines | I |
Is there he said in arms who bravely dare | W |
His leader s honor and his danger share | W |
Then spurring on his brandish d dart he threw | Y |
In sign of war applauding shouts ensue | Y |
Amaz d to find a dastard race that run | Z |
Behind the rampires and the battle shun | Z |
He rides around the camp with rolling eyes | I |
And stops at ev ry post and ev ry passage tries | I |
So roams the nightly wolf about the fold | A2 |
Wet with descending show rs and stiff with cold | A2 |
He howls for hunger and he grins for pain | P |
His gnashing teeth are exercis d in vain | P |
And impotent of anger finds no way | M |
In his distended paws to grasp the prey | M |
The mothers listen but the bleating lambs | I |
Securely swig the dug beneath the dams | I |
Thus ranges eager Turnus o er the plain | P |
Sharp with desire and furious with disdain | P |
Surveys each passage with a piercing sight | K |
To force his foes in equal field to fight | K |
Thus while he gazes round at length he spies | I |
Where fenc d with strong redoubts their navy lies | I |
Close underneath the walls the washing tide | B2 |
Secures from all approach this weaker side | B2 |
He takes the wish d occasion fills his hand | X |
With ready fires and shakes a flaming brand | X |
Urg d by his presence ev ry soul is warm d | A |
And ev ry hand with kindled firs is arm d | A |
From the fir d pines the scatt ring sparkles fly | C2 |
Fat vapors mix d with flames involve the sky | C2 |
What pow r O Muses could avert the flame | D2 |
Which threaten d in the fleet the Trojan name | D2 |
Tell for the fact thro length of time obscure | E2 |
Is hard to faith yet shall the fame endure | E2 |
T is said that when the chief prepar d his flight | K |
And fell d his timber from Mount Ida s height | K |
The grandam goddess then approach d her son | Z |
And with a mother s majesty begun | Z |
Grant me she said the sole request I bring | F2 |
Since conquer d heav n has own d you for its king | F2 |
On Ida s brows for ages past there stood | N |
With firs and maples fill d a shady wood | N |
And on the summit rose a sacred grove | G2 |
Where I was worship d with religious love | H2 |
Those woods that holy grove my long delight | K |
I gave the Trojan prince to speed his flight | K |
Now fill d with fear on their behalf I come | I2 |
Let neither winds o erset nor waves intomb | I2 |
The floating forests of the sacred pine | L |
But let it be their safety to be mine | L |
Then thus replied her awful son who rolls | I |
The radiant stars and heav n and earth controls | I |
How dare you mother endless date demand | X |
For vessels molded by a mortal hand | X |
What then is fate Shall bold neas ride | B2 |
Of safety certain on th uncertain tide | B2 |
Yet what I can I grant when wafted o er | J2 |
The chief is landed on the Latian shore | U |
Whatever ships escape the raging storms | I |
At my command shall change their fading forms | I |
To nymphs divine and plow the wat ry way | M |
Like Dotis and the daughters of the sea | A |
To seal his sacred vow by Styx he swore | U |
The lake of liquid pitch the dreary shore | U |
And Phlegethon s innavigable flood | O |
And the black regions of his brother god | K2 |
He said and shook the skies with his imperial nod | K2 |
And now at length the number d hours were come | I2 |
Prefix d by fate s irrevocable doom | I2 |
When the great Mother of the Gods was free | A |
To save her ships and finish Jove s decree | A |
First from the quarter of the morn there sprung | L2 |
A light that sign d the heav ns and shot along | M2 |
Then from a cloud fring d round with golden fires | I |
Were timbrels heard and Berecynthian choirs | I |
And last a voice with more than mortal sounds | I |
Both hosts in arms oppos d with equal horror wounds | I |
O Trojan race your needless aid forbear | A |
And know my ships are my peculiar care | A |
With greater ease the bold Rutulian may | M |
With hissing brands attempt to burn the sea | A |
Than singe my sacred pines But you my charge | N2 |
Loos d from your crooked anchors launch at large | N2 |
Exalted each a nymph forsake the sand | X |
And swim the seas at Cybele s command | X |
No sooner had the goddess ceas d to speak | O2 |
When lo th obedient ships their haulsers break | P2 |
And strange to tell like dolphins in the main | P |
They plunge their prows and dive and spring again | Q2 |
As many beauteous maids the billows sweep | R2 |
As rode before tall vessels on the deep | R2 |
The foes surpris d with wonder stood aghast | S2 |
Messapus curb d his fiery courser s haste | B |
Old Tiber roar d and raising up his head | T2 |
Call d back his waters to their oozy bed | T2 |
Turnus alone undaunted bore the shock | U2 |
And with these words his trembling troops bespoke | U2 |
These monsters for the Trojans fate are meant | V2 |
And are by Jove for black presages sent | V2 |
He takes the cowards last relief away | M |
For fly they cannot and constrain d to stay | M |
Must yield unfought a base inglorious prey | M |
The liquid half of all the globe is lost | W2 |
Heav n shuts the seas and we secure the coast | X2 |
Theirs is no more than that small spot of ground | Y2 |
Which myriads of our martial men surround | Y2 |
Their fates I fear not or vain oracles | I |
Z2 |
Publius Vergilius Maro
(1)
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